Code Geass: Conquest of Paradise
by Bergman22
Summary: Immortality can be a blessing or a curse. What will people do to attain it? More importantly, what will they do to keep it?
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

A dark speck crawled across white drifts of snow towards an empty horizon.

Miniscule in the white haze, the dot nonetheless moved steadily across the glacial Antarctic landscape with a sure sense of purpose. It never wavered a degree from its chosen direction, as though guided by an invisible line towards a patch of snow identical to the billions of others surrounding it.

The speck stopped, evidently satisfied that it had arrived at the right location, and removed its scarf and hood. From the heavy, concealing garments emerged a man. He squatted down and began patting the ground, wiping snow from concealed gray stone with a frantic eagerness. That didn't last long. _I really wish I had brought along a shovel,_ the man thought to himself after digging for several tedious hours with numb hands. Eventually, the man cleared himself a respectable square, surrounded by the high banks of snow he had piled up. _That should do it._ Deep in concentration, kneeling motionless, he removed his glove and placed his right hand softly on the ground.

For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, gradually, almost imperceptibly, a falcon shaped sigil in the stone began to illuminate the man with a steady red glow,throwing soft shadows across the planes of his face. The glow pulsed, the shadows flitted in and out of existence, and the stone began to shake, shivering with deep, booming rumbles. The man allowed a smile to cross his face, but it was gone almost as fast as the ground beneath his feet. Falling with rock that had been solid ground just a second ago, he clung to it like moss, fingers scrabbling desperately for purchase on the smooth stone. The bottom of the newly-revealed cave came rushing up quickly, and man and rock slammed into it with a resounding crash. The impact made the whole cavern shake, sending huge clouds of dust up into the dead air.

_Well, that's just wonderful. _As the dust cleared, it revealed the man lying prone on the cracked rock, his right leg a bloody mess. A sharp shaft of bone protruded from the shin like the splintered mast of a ship, his foot sticking out from the ankle at an unnatural angle. The intense pain would have shut down a normal man's brain, but this man's pain circuits had been shorted out a good two hundred years ago. Pain was a nagging old neighbor to him, something to be dismissed as an annoyance, not a serious enemy. The wound was crippling, however, so he had no choice but to lie there, waiting.

He didn't have to wait for long. Almost as soon as it hit the ground, his splattered blood began oozing back toward the broken leg, instead of lying in the dirt congealing as spilled blood is normally wont to do. It crawled up his leg, gravitated towards the wound, and slipped smoothly back into waiting blood vessels. Gritting his teeth, the man grabbed his foot and wrenched it into position with a satisfying cracking sound. He did the same for his leg, aligning the bones together, then let go as they began to knit themselves together again. In less than a minute, the wounded leg was unblemished and whole. The man stood up and took a few tentative steps forward, moving away from the fallen rock and the pale shaft of light that was doing a piss-poor job of illuminating the room. _There. Good as new._

Still a little shaky from the fall, the man began to get a feel for his surroundings, peering through the nearly pitch black gloom with narrowed eyes. Moving towards the walls, he pressed his hands to them and started circling the room, ready to find what he was looking for by touch. He had completed a half-circuit when his fingers alighted upon their target: A narrow crack that ran straight up and down the wall as far as he could feel. _This is it. The Thought Elevator_.

The man knew what it looked like, even in the darkness. An immense stone doorway, marked with all the signs of Geass and the Codes. A doorway that looked as though it were built for giants, or gods. And he needed to look inside.

Fortunately for the man, the doorway did not need to be forced open, in spite of its titanic proportions. The smallest contact of the fingertips was all that was needed, and the doors slid open with a quiet rumble. As the opening grew larger, the cavern became flooded with late evening light. The man did not go through the inviting archway when the doors finished their turn. He was too busy staring, transfixed by the ominous sight within.

_This? This is that Brittanian ape's pet project?_ _Is he INSANE? Killing God, our collective unconscious? This will mean the end of humanity as we know it. More importantly, it will mean the end of ME! And I am powerless to take any action._

The man turned away from the doorway, letting it close. His mouth was fixed in an angry snarl, breath coming in short, violent bursts. He paced around the cavern in aggressive circles, lost in thought.

_Nothing for it but to continue as I have always done, and hope that only one of the idiots in my little adopted family is enabling this madman. Too late for me to do anything about it, not at this stage. The Dreams are set and hardened, I cannot unmold them. It succeeds or fails on its own now._

_And yet after it fails... if it fails... **when** it fails... Are not some precautions in order? I will need to take steps to ensure this debacle will never be repeated. I will need to take steps to control Geass._

_And the only way to control Geass is to control the Codes._

With that the man stopped his worried pacing and began moving with more confidence. He strode decisively towards the cracked rock that marked his "graceful descent." Once he arrived at the rock, however, he hesitated. Craning his neck up at the hole thirty feet above his head, then gazing with dismay at the smooth cavern walls, his new-found sense of purpose took its first blow.

_Now how the fuck am I going to get out of here?_

_

* * *

_

Author Note: Don't fret too much about the style and content of the prologue, the character roster will be expanded, and the style will change. If you're lucky,you'll even get characters with names and dialogue!

Remember, You The Reader aren't obligated to compliment me. I'm writing this to improve myself, so feel free to criticize any and all aspects of my prose, characterization, or plotting. In fact, I welcome it.


	2. Chapter 2

Inspiration

Lelouch sat brooding in his room, projecting an aura of contemplative angst as only a rebellious, intelligent teenager with a flair for the dramatic can.

It was the day after the Black Knights had driven back the Chinese invasion at Kyushu, and the general atmosphere was charged with the thrill of victory. The "pathetic rebels" had succeeded where the Britannian army itself had not. Perhaps even more importantly, they had proven themselves true champions of justice, not to be fooled by the mask of "savior" that the Chinese Federation had so brazenly put on. And so, to celebrate the occasion in the traditional Black Knight manner, no bottle of champagne was left uncorked, and there was no end to the toasts honoring "My best buddy Zero!"

Some people were having considerably more fun than others, but the only person not in some way euphorically impaired was Lelouch vi Britannia, Zero, hero of Japan, and architect of the Black Knights' most recent victory. Other subjects were pressing on his mind.

"Lelouch, I know you're fond of Suzaku, but your desire to team up and relive the happy days shouldn't guide your decisions. What do you think you gained by helping one enemy gain victory over another?" CC asked probingly.

"CC, I didn't fight this battle for Britannia. I've been giving our situation a lot of thought, and the Black Knights needed to participate in this fight," Lelouch said to the green-haired girl sprawled out on the couch opposite him. "Up till now, we were still just a rebel group, insurgents, rats on the ship. And if we had let the Chinese take over, even if they were weak from fighting Britannia, we would still lack any sort of meaningful authority. But now, we've established our role as legitimate protectors of Japan to Britannia, the Chinese Federation, and the world. Any sort of material or tactical gain pales compared to that. We ARE Japan, and they cannot ignore us!" A triumphant gleam appeared in Lelouch's eyes as he neared the end of his speech, standing up from the couch and spreading his arms wide, as though he expected waves of applause.

He didn't get any. The nearly empty room offered him only dead silence, and the one-person audience was tough.

The witch gazed up at him with tilted, sarcastic eyes, and deadpanned: "Fine. Congratulations, you're legitimate. Now, just what can you do with your new credit among the world powers, few as they are? The Black Knights are still fighting an uphill battle in an occupied country, against a world superpower, with no allies, and many enemies. We could use the tactical advantages you so casually dismiss."

"Don't be so quick to dismiss world influence either. It's a more subtle form of currency than Knightmares, money, or even the high ground in a battle, but used right, it can change the entire narrative of war," Lelouch snapped back. His fingers tapped a fast, irregular rhythm on the stylized helmet in his hands. "As a matter of fact, I think I'll show you right now where I intend to go from here." He turned toward the door, settling the helmet securely on his head. "Well? Are you coming? Don't you want to see what your accomplice will do next?" he asked, in Zero's muffled, metallic voice.

CC got up from the couch with a sigh and a well-concealed smile as she followed her contract holder out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

Opportunities

"No, Zero. Absolutely not. He's my best. Without him, we would never have lived down the fallout from the battle of Narita. Recruitment would be down 50%. And we would lose the best coffee-maker in the public relations division!"

"Diethard, I'm not _asking_ you. I'm _telling_ you that I need him, and there's nothing you can do to change that fact. Your blabber is just lengthening his resume," Lelouch intoned sharply, growing impatient with the conversation.

Diethard backed down with a sickly look on his face, like that of a proud cat unceremoniously shoved off a table and rebuked, acquiescing quietly and quickly. "Of... course, Zero. Whatever you need."

Lelouch turned his attention away from the crestfallen journalist. _He'll get over it-probably just annoyed that he'll have to work more hours. _He scanned the room, looking closely at each of the twenty-odd faces lit by the pale glow of computer monitors.

He asked: "Which one of you is Etsuo?"

A short young man with brown hair stood up from his desk. "That's me," he said, waiting by his computer uncertainly. Lelouch waved him over, and tried to take in all the information he could about the young man from body language and appearance. _An honest face... that will play well. He looks nervous about being singled out like this, but that's normal. He's intelligent and charismatic, if Diethard's reports are even close to reliable, and he can spew enough convincing rhetoric about our cause to convince almost anyone to support the Black Knights. Perfect for what I have in mind. All he needs to do is talk._

Evidently unsure how to handle being called upon by Zero, the young man looked to Diethard for guidance with a clear question in his eyes. Lelouch cleared his throat loudly for attention, and Etsuo turned toward him. "Etsuo, what is your job in this organization?" Lelouch asked.

Etsuo snapped to attention, back rigid and eyes forward as he specified his duties. "Sir, I'm a recruiter. I screen applicants, interview them, and identify potential new members. I also assist in maintaining the image of the Black Knights in the media and among the Japanese."

"Have you ever piloted a Knightmare frame before?"

"Once in training. Never in combat. We don't have enough frames to spare for noncombatants like me."

Lelouch smiled inside his helmet, but his opaque mask revealed nothing. "Well, that's about to change. Consider yourself promoted, Etsuo Kiso. You are no longer working for Diethard. You will report directly to me. Get your things and meet me in room 239 in two hours. You will be debriefed then."

With that, Lelouch turned on his heel and marched out of the room with CC behind him. The door closed on Diethard and Etsuo, looking sullen and shocked, respectively.

* * *

They walked down the hall of the submarine, two sets of footsteps echoing distinctly over the small, steady hum of engines and turbines. CC was curious about what her accomplice had planned, but held back her outburst of questions like an itch she was resolved not to scratch. Giving in to curiosity too soon or too easily wouldn't do for her reputation, after all. The silence dragged on, through the sound of footsteps and engines, until she finally began the conversation in her usual calm and aloof manner. She stated coolly, "He's certainly a remarkable boy."

Lelouch chuckled. "He is at that. He'd better be, to perform the tasks I'm going to set for him. He'll be set loose without a safety net to advance my interests in Europe."

CC's steps paused for an imperceptible moment while her insides lifted weightlessly, like the floor had suddenly dropped a centimeter under her feet. She never ceased to be surprised by the constant twists Lelouch threw into his strategies, but this one made her uneasy. It seemed like a step too far, an overreach. Her response was measured, her voice clipped. "You mean to make this... Etsuo Kiso your ambassador to the states of the EU? Are you sure this is a good idea? He isn't exactly a seasoned diplomat, and the Union has no reason to trust or help us."

Lelouch responded, "The EU is the enemy of our enemy, and far enough away that they don't have serious designs on Japan. As for his abilities, I can't spare anyone else. I can't leave, you can't go, and I don't trust Diethard even as far as I can throw him-and if you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly a paragon of physical fitness. Etsuo is as loyal as I can be sure of, he's intelligent, and he can speak the language of political leaders. He doesn't need to be the next Bismarck, he just needs to open a few ears in Europe to the advantages they stand to gain by working with the Black Knights. And in return for our cooperation in undermining Britannia, we get a new source of money, Knightmares, or, most importantly, information."

CC felt her initial unease slowly drain away. It looked like this was just a precaution, a small step into new territory that could pay off big later, but wouldn't harm anything if it failed. Assured that it wasn't an apocalyptically stupid plan, CC felt it only prudent to help it along in her small, subtle way: By offering blunt, sarcastic criticism. It builds character.

"So, you think that the leaders of the EU, some of the most powerful men in the world, are going to listen to a fresh-faced boy representing terrorists? Lelouch, I never would have imagined you were such an optimist," CC said.

"We won't be just the Black Knights for long. I think negotiating with the new United States of Japan will be more palatable than talking with a notorious terrorist group. Even then, he'll need a tongue smoother than silver and sweeter than honey, but I think it can be done. But if they aren't interested in talk... well that's why I'm not sending him alone," Lelouch said with a smile. "Just look."

CC shifted her attention from the conversation to her surroundings. She was taken aback for only a moment, then nodded in comprehension. They were standing before the quarters of Kallen and her Zero Squad. Having selected his ambassador of words, Lelouch now needed an ambassador of combat. Someone who could speak most eloquently with bullets, bombs, and clashing metal.

She heartily approved of his choice.


	4. Chapter 4

Tactics

Merise tightened her grip on the heavy joysticks. The air inside the cockpit was becoming hot and oppressive, wringing out every last drop of sweat she had, and the feeble air conditioning wasn't helping in the slightest. Her attention was intensely focused on the viewscreen of her Burai, where three enemy Sutherlands were shown slowly advancing on her position. Their Factsphere sensors were out, pulsing in the center of the Brittanian Knightmares' faces like a diseased, inflamed eye.

She couldn't stay hidden for much longer. If they got any closer, their sensors would be able to pinpoint her easily. As it was, they were already on alert. The thermal signature she let off when moving into position was enough to tell them someone was there, just not exactly where. If she wanted to take them out, she'd have to do it now, with what little surprise she still had left.

Merise drew back on the left stick, and her frame responded fluidly, resting its arm on the warehouse wall. She took a few deep breaths, filling her lungs with muggy air, steadying her nerves for the big push.

She threw the controls forward and the Knightmare rushed out of hiding, Landspinners skidding on the concrete. Cutting diagonally across the street into her three enemies' path, she steadied her hands on the joystick, slowly panning the crosshairs of her rifle until they lined up with the lead Sutherland. She pulled the trigger with a satisfying _click_, and felt the vibrations tingle down her body as the entire frame shook to the gun's recoil. A barrage of armor-piercing bullets perforated the target's cockpit, and the enemy Knightmare collapsed to the ground like a stringless puppet, momentum still pushing it. It skidded across the ground for several more meters, sparks fanning out wherever metal touched asphalt.

The other two frames were still active, however, and Merise didn't slow down while she wasted the first one. The remaining Sutherlands brought up their rifles, but hit only her shadow and the empty air behind her as she bolted into another warehouse on the side of the street. It was pitch dark inside, but her sensors brought several large freight containers into grainy green view. They were tempting cover, but she had a better plan than engaging in a prolonged, outnumbered shootout.

She had bought herself some time. No pilot, no matter how courageous or stupid, was going to rush blindly into a building containing someone who had just shot down one of his squad. Hurrying behind one of the metal containers near the back of the warehouse, she reached around to the back of her Knightmare and detached a large beige canister. Setting it upright on the ground, she keyed in a few commands on her keyboard. The letters PROX. ACTIVATED lit up in bright red around the edge of the cylinder.

Merise cradled the heavy assault rifle in the palms of her big metal hands and turned around to face the warehouse wall. Letting loose with a prolonged burst of gunfire, she stepped on the gas and crashed through the splintered wall with a riotous shriek of metal, and sped out into the field behind the warehouse. Over her shoulder, she saw one of the Sutherlands just entering the warehouse, moving with increasing confidence and speed to intercept her once it saw her fleeing. She didn't look back now that they were on the hook, just tore as fast and as far away from the soon-to-be blast radius as possible.

But Merise could imagine. Would they see the mine? Would sweet comprehension and horror dawn on their disgusting Britannian faces in the milliseconds before they die? Or would they set off the bomb without realizing it, and meet their maker in surprise and shock? The predator in her preferred the first option, but any scenario in which Brittanians die was enough to bring a smile to her face and a warm glow to her heart.

Judging the distance to be safe, she slowed to a halt and turned her Burai around just in time for the fireworks. With a thunderous roar, the building was reduced to kindling as one of the Sutherlands had gotten too close to the mine. Merise could feel the ground shake in the cockpit of her Knightmare, the red and orange light of the fiery aftermath dancing across her rapturous face.

She watched as the fires spread to other buildings containing important Britannian military supplies, the sound of sirens rising and falling in the distance. Seeing that the entire row of warehouses would soon go up in flames if help didn't arrive soon, Merise fired a few parting shots into one of the nearby buildings. She was pleasantly rewarded when one of her bullets hit a cache of ammunition and set off another explosion, sending a second pillar of smoke and fire up into the sky. She turned to leave, wheels spinning slowly with the sound of the sirens at her back, when she heard the _crack_ of gunfire in the distance.

Alarms screeched immediately, warning her of armor breaches and hydraulic leaks in the right arm. Worse, her damaged hand had dropped its assault rifle. Cursing wildly, Merise spun around and located her attacker. One of the Sutherlands had apparently not gone into the warehouse, and survived the explosion. It was crippled, its left leg and arm destroyed, and scorch marks ran up and down its body. Even so handicapped, the no-doubt woozy pilot had managed to lurch somewhat upright and shoot her with a destroyed targeting system and scrambled sights.

It was almost impressive, for a Britannian.

Despite her reluctant admiration for the enemy soldier, Merise didn't hesitate a moment before engaging in combat. The enemy had disarmed her, but she was still fully mobile, and had access to a weapon that could never be depleted. Cutting across the grassy field in a wide arc, she quickly closed the gap between her and the enemy Knightmare. The other pilot panicked and began firing wildly, spraying bullets in a frantic attempt to stop her before she got too close. But Merise barely needed to dodge, the fire was so random; and before his clip even ran out she had closed in.

Her first Slash Harken sheared straight through its right arm, the rifle falling to the ground with the hand still attached, still firing at full bore. It twisted in circles with the recoil of its automatic barrage until the ammo ran out. Her second Slash Harken impaled the cockpit, and the heavy frame slumped over, looking as dead as its pilot. The winches in her armor began to turn, retracting the thin cables. Slipping smoothly out of the wreckage of the enemy Knightmare, the deadly spikes anchored firmly into the chest of the frame, one still tinged the normal dark maroon, the other stained crimson.

That was bound to have attracted attention. She hadn't exactly meant to be quiet, what with the sizable bomb she had set off, but that third pilot had cost her time, and damaged her vehicle to boot. Merise sped away from the scene, stopping only to lean down and pick up her fallen weapon with her left hand. She left dancing fires lighting up the night sky behind her.

* * *

Stopping when she reached the stretch of unmonitored coast that was her pickup point, Merise shut down the power, took her hands off the controls, and opened the cockpit to the night air. The cool sea breeze felt wonderful after hours spent breathing and exercising in recycled sweat and sterilized industrial fumes.

By her watch she still had an hour till pick up. She looked down the beach to her right and left, and saw no one. Either she was the only one out on a mission tonight, or no one else was back yet. Relaxing, she leaned back in her chair, letting the soothing sounds of the beach wash over her.

No one was relying on her at the moment. No responsibilities, and enough time to catch a short nap. Just a small... nap...

...

...

"Meri, wakey wakey! Time to get up, our ride's here!"

...The first thought that came to her head after being rudely roused from the beginnings of what was sure to have been a wonderful dream, involving masks, guns, and Zero, was that someone was going to die.

The second was that their impending execution would have to be postponed, for just a little while, until she got the crust out of her eyes.

Merise sat up reluctantly, rubbing her eyes, blinking repeatedly, and feeling aches in places she didn't know she had. Somewhere along the line during her seven years as a terrorist she had lost the ability to sleep comfortably in a chair. That is, if such a happy time had ever existed. She was certain that at fourteen she could wait in a cramped cockpit forever, but she wasn't sure. You tend to remember the highs of this life, the burning factories and liberated countrymen, and try to forget the dreary, aching hours of waiting.

When her eyes finally opened, she was greeted by the sight of a burnt, crooked face, with tightly cropped brown hair and a bent nose. His stern mouth was balanced out by kind brown eyes that were showing the beginnings of wrinkles in the corners. Her scowl instantly disappeared into a beaming smile. "Jiro!" she cried out, with more enthusiasm than someone just waking up should conceivably have, pulling him into a fierce hug.

She hadn't seen Jiro in over two years. He was a freelancer, a good fighter with expertise in mechanics, which was enough to make him wanted by every resistance group in Japan. He spent a long time working in hers, but had left her group after a rivalry with another member had threatened to get out of hand. He had been there for her, acting like a surrogate father through the frequent tough times. Merise went along with it, considering it just part of their relationship, but often her intentions towards him bordered on... very inappropriate for a daughter.

Her hug nearly dragged Jiro from his perch atop her Knightmare. Barely maintaining his balance, the big man managed to croak out a reply. "It's good to see you too, Merise. It's been too long," he said, gently extricating himself from her viselike grip with a fond smile on his face. "What happened to your Knightmare?" he asked.

Merise shook her head in exasperation. "Some Britannian got lucky. It's not important. When did you start working for the Black Knights?"

"I guess I just got caught up in the current like everyone else. It's tightly run and well funded. I'm not surprised it's achieved the overwhelming success it has. I mean, none of the organizations I worked for ever had a submarine. Not even yours," Jiro said. "I've been here for about a month now, and most of my squadmates are competent. Can't say the same for my commander, one Tamaki Shinichiro. I take it you know him?" he inquired, seeing Merise's face twist with revulsion at the mention of Tamaki's name.

"Ugh. Not as a friend. He's an incompetent, loudmouthed idiot. Loyal as a dog to Zero though, which is probably why he still has a place here. But who knows, maybe one of these days we'll all get lucky and his well-worn ejection pod will fail to launch," Merise said, releasing a small chuckle.

Jiro gave a booming belly laugh at her joke. "BWAHAHAHAHA, bloodthirsty as ever. You haven't changed one bit, even working for someone else. That reminds me, I should be the one asking you how you ended with the Black Knights. I thought you would never leave the RGAB."

Merise blushed at the compliment. It was always nice to know someone appreciated her sense that the world would be better off without some people. You know, like Britannians, murderers, rapists, and the occasional sycophantic loudmouth. Nothing quite says fair like judgments based off of personal annoyance.

Before she could respond to his question, their conversation was interrupted by the worker in charge of loading the Knightmares onto the sub. "Sorry to bother you two," he shouted, "but this submarine can't wait around all night. Zero will be pissed! Get your shit on board now!"

Jiro looked down at the man, embarrassed to have held him up, and apologized, moving into the cockpit of his own Knightmare, a Burai like Merise's. Merise did not apologize, but piloted her Knightmare on board after him.

* * *

Knightmares safely stowed, Merise and Jiro walked the halls of the sub together, catching up. Jiro was especially curious about how she ended up working for Zero, and she was more than happy to oblige, telling him disjointedly all that had happened in her organization since he left. She had just finished the short version by the time they arrived at her destination: the Zero Squad rooms. She turned to Jiro and said, "This is my stop. Come on in, we can continue the conversation inside."

"Definitely. I still have a lot of questions. Ladies first," he said, gesturing with his arm towards the door.

"Well, you can go ahead then," Merise said.

"Oh, Meri, you cut so deep. Words can hurt, you know," Jiro said, wincing in mock pain. She walked past him, making sure to bump the shoulder he was holding gingerly, then looking back and laughing as he made an exaggerated fuss about "the agony!" She waited with her hand on the doorknob for him to catch up with her. Merise and Jiro were greeted inside with muffled conversation that stopped as soon as the speakers heard the door open.

Merise froze. She had barged in on what appeared to be most of the command structure of the Black Knights, Zero included, and they were all staring straight at her.

* * *

Author Note: Must... resist... the urge to describe Jiro as "grizzled." And good lord, my dialogue is shit. But describing battle scenes was surprisingly easy.

Also, this is the first chapter with a named Original Character narrating. Hooray! I'm trying to characterize gradually with dialogue and narration. Not sure how that's working, so please give me your impressions of Merise, Jiro, and Etsuo in the reviews. It would be very helpful.

Remember, please Criticize!


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